Potter's Party
by twin-v
Summary: Harry wants a party. Draco and Hermione have to plan it. Written for the Who Would Have Guessed Ficathon


Authors' Notes: This was written for the Who Would Have Guessed ficathon, started by afraidtobe in her livejournal. So, thanks to her for the opportunity! The clichés that we tried to make readable are: Harry and Ron play matchmaker, Draco and Hermione work together, and Draco and Hermione get stuck in a room together.

Many thanks to our beta, zarah joyce, and of course our ickle sister Isa, who reads all our fics first.

Hermione sighed as Draco signed yet another Witch Weekly magazine. If only she had realized Draco was as popular as he was, she wouldn't have suggested meeting him at such a well-known restaurant.

"See, that's what I like about you," Draco flashed Hermione a wide grin, hearing her sigh. "No matter how famous I get, you don't treat me any differently."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Are you being sarcastic?"

He blinked innocently. "Me? Never. Really, Hermione, give yourself some credit. You don't treat me like I'm better than the next person, and I appreciate that."

"You _aren't_ better than the next person, Draco."

Draco stared at her for a moment. "Of course I am," he said, with a half-hearted attempt at arrogance. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be famous, would I?" He didn't meet her eyes; instead he looked intently out of the window of the restaurant, wishing she did think he was just a little bit more special than anyone. Draco was hurt. He wasn't sure why, but her opinion seemed to matter more than most.

"You're the Pride of the Purebloods, the Boy Who Gave Hope, He Who Inspired Change and Destroyed Blood Prejudices, I know, it's in Witch Weekly," Hermione said quickly, as if realizing that Draco was put out by what she said. "And while I think you do deserve those titles, I don't think you need to be fawned upon, since your ego's quite big enough already."

His mouth twitched. "You read Witch Weekly?"

"You're the first male they've had on the cover since Gilderoy Lockhart ten years ago," she said defensively. "Which makes you the _second_ in its history."

"Gee Granger, I didn't know you were counting. I never pegged you for the Witch Weekly type- but then again, I never pegged you for the Gilderoy Lockhart type either."

Hermione's face flamed. "That was _years_ ago," she said, gritting her teeth. "Now pay attention, Malfoy, before I turn you into a ferret and feed you to your paparazzi. Where should we have the party?"

Draco bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that Hermione had her own paparazzi- though not as many as Draco had, for only the bravest of the brave dared stalk Hermione Granger. She was quite an expert herself at digging up dirt on other people, a skill she used quite often to get her way. Many had learned from Rita Skeeter's example, it seemed.

The reason she and Draco had met for lunch at Diagon Alley was to plan a surprise party for Harry's birthday. So far they hadn't gotten anywhere, although Draco had gotten through several of the restaurant's desserts.

"How about the Burrow?" Draco suggested, finishing his éclair. "He's likely to spend his birthday there anyway."

"If we hold it at the Burrow, the Weasleys will end up cleaning everything afterwards. I was thinking more of a restaurant, so Mrs. Weasley won't have to do anything."

"But you can't fully relax in a restaurant! We can hold it at the Burrow, and no one has to do anything because I can provide house elves for that."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "House elves?"

"Yes, house elves." Feeling reckless, he continued, "You know, those magical creatures that wizarding families generally have, whose sole purpose in life is to serve their masters-"

"Those lazy louts who can't do anything for themselves, you mean?"

She was glaring at him, and Draco smirked back. The fight was on.

_Damn_, Draco thought as he paced around the room. At this rate, they'd never plan the party in time for Harry's birthday. They couldn't agree on anything. Ron had made a mistake asking him and Hermione to plan a party together.

"I don't think we can do this, Weasley. All we do is argue."

"You _have_ to do it, Malfoy. I can't do it, I'm lousy at keeping secrets. Harry will know something's up in an instant." Ron smiled encouragingly at Draco. "I'm sure you and Hermione will work something out."

"You weren't there, Weasley. You didn't see the hex she sent at me. I came this close-" he held up his thumb and forefinger with about a centimeter of air between them, "to losing my hair."

Ron chuckled. "Hermione likes scaring people like that. You're lucky she didn't aim lower."

Draco's eyes widened. "She aims _lower_?" his voice dropped to a strained whisper.

The redhead nodded solemnly. "She purposefully misses, of course. It's just to scare you. But one wrong move, step the wrong way, and it could be very painful."

Draco gulped.

"See, _you_ have to plan the party, Hermione will skin me alive if I'm in on the plans and accidentally spill the beans to Harry."

"But Weasley, I could lose my-"

"Don't worry about that," Ron interrupted knowingly. "She knows how to put it back."

"Still-"

"No. Malfoy, you're doing this for Harry, and you're doing it with Hermione. And you'll enjoy it." Ron said it in such a way that reminded Draco so strongly of Mrs. Weasley that he couldn't say no.

"All right. But not a word to anyone if I go bald, or you'll rue the day you were born. I'm leaving." Draco stood up and glared pointedly at the redhead before Disapparating.

"The look on his face," Ron chortled, looking at the empty space near the fireplace.

"He was scared silly," Harry spoke suddenly. He removed his invisibility cloak from around his shoulders and tossed it onto the sofa. "You just had to say that she aims lower."

"So?"

"So Hermione never aims lower! She never even _looks_ lower."

"Well, he doesn't know that, does he? Anyway, it worked, didn't it? He's still planning the party, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is." Harry grinned, collapsing on the sofa with a satisfied thud. "Admit it, Ron, my plan is brilliant."

"I suppose planning to have people plan your own surprise party _is_ a stroke of genius." Ron looked thoughtful. "He seems to really like her."

"She deserves someone who really likes her. But I'd say the only thing more surprising than him liking her is that the two of us are playing matchmaker."

"But it's really _you_ playing matchmaker, it was your plan, you said so yourself," Ron chuckled.

Harry looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, it's time she found someone," he said defensively. "Where'd you learn to lie like that anyway?"

Ron shrugged. "It's Malfoy. If I can't lie to _him_, I can't lie at all."

3 weeks, 5 days to go…

"Mister Malfoy to see you, miss," Lorna, Hermione's secretary, gave her a significant look. Hermione barely had time to puzzle over Lorna's facial expression before Draco entered the room, and Lorna left it.

"Hi," Hermione smiled shyly. Their last meeting had ended badly, and she wasn't quite sure how to treat him.

Draco grinned back. "Hi. Weasley, er, told me that we had to get a move on planning the party." In truth, his last contact with Ron had been two days ago, when he had told Ron that he hadn't wanted to plan the party anymore. But he had decided that some time away from Hermione could only be healthy.

"Oh." She looked at her desk, which was covered with paper. "Well, I'm slightly busy now, so-"

Immediately, Draco felt like a fool. _Slightly busy_ seemed to be an understatement. "Oh right. Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." He felt like kicking himself; he had thought that Hermione might have work to do, but he had sort of expected her to think Harry's birthday was more important. "I just wanted to tell you I had an idea for a theme."

"We're doing a theme?"

"I thought you wanted one."

"I did, but… _you_ didn't."

"Well, I thought of one."

Hermione smiled brilliantly at him. "Thank you. I thought…"

"We'd go with what I wanted?"

"No, I thought I'd have to force you to go with what _I_ wanted," she joked, laughing.

He grinned in return. "No force necessary, not with Weasley being so persistent. So should I tell you my idea, or are you too busy?"

She frowned thoughtfully. "Are you free for dinner?"

Draco inhaled sharply, his heart racing. "Dinner? With you?"

She nodded, and was it his imagination or did she turn faintly pink? "Just to talk about your idea… Perhaps you could tell me the basic theme now, and at dinner we'll compare our ideas for the party."

"That sounds like a plan. What time would you like dinner, and where?"

"How does seven sound? And you can decide on the place, I can't afford to spend time thinking about it right now. Just call my secretary."

"Or I could pick you up, couldn't I?" Draco asked quickly, before he lost his nerve. He was nervous, but couldn't imagine why. He and Hermione were _friends_. Friends who fought a lot, but friends nonetheless. There was nothing to be nervous about. Except, of course, that if she turned him down, he would be hurt and disappointed. Perhaps even scarred for life.

"Oh, I suppose you could, if you'd like," Hermione replied. She gave him another shy smile, and then froze as she caught sight of the clock behind him. "Your idea, Draco. I don't have much time."

"A children's party."

"You're joking." Hermione stared at him.

"No, I'm serious." Draco felt a flash of annoyance that she wasn't taking him seriously, but he decided to let it pass for the sake of their date- or rather, _dinner_- that night.

"He's turning twenty-two!"

"Precisely! He's turning twenty-two and he's never had-"

At that moment, Lorna entered the room. "The chairman to see you."

Draco turned back to Hermione. "Just think about it."

Hermione was already straightening out the papers on her desk. "All right, all right. See you later," she said distractedly.

Draco left her office in an emotional mess, and tried to sort things out on his way home. He was happy, he was afraid, he was excited and nervous and heartbroken at the same time. It became clear to him that he liked Hermione, and liked her a lot, almost too much. More than he ought to, considering she didn't seem to reciprocate. They were friends, and he was usually just glad that they had managed to achieve that, but there were moments when he yearned for more. At the same time, he didn't want to make any moves that might jeopardize their tentative hold on friendship. He was terrified that he'd scare her off. He didn't know if he wanted her to know how he felt. He wasn't sure how he wanted her to interpret his offer of picking her up- was it a friendly gesture, or a romantic one? Even _he_ didn't know what to think of it.

The idea of working together to plan Harry's surprise party had been appealing at first, because Draco thought he might somehow manage to get closer to Hermione. His hopes had been dashed after their first few planning sessions, which had either ended in them fighting, or Hermione having to run off for some business errand. He couldn't understand how he could like her and dislike her so much at the same time. She was just…infuriating most of the time. Sometimes he wanted to strangle her, and he was sure that _that_ feeling was mutual. But he couldn't help it. He liked making her angry, but he disliked her when she was mad.

Draco would have entertained the thought that he was going insane, except that no Malfoy ever went insane. That is, no Malfoy that _hadn't_ been in Azkaban ever went insane.

As for the restaurant where they would be dining, Draco already had one in mind. It wasn't too fancy, so they'd be able to work comfortably on Harry's party, but it wasn't too cheap that he'd be embarrassed to be seen there. Also, since there was no fancy dress code, Hermione wouldn't feel awkward, especially if she didn't want it to be a date.

At seven on the dot, Draco rang the doorbell to Hermione's house. She opened the door, and Draco was surprised to see that she was still in her office attire. "Sorry," she said, her cheeks flushing as she saw him glance at her outfit, "I just got home. I ended up working late."

"It's fine," Draco replied, tearing his gaze away from her. "We're not going anywhere fancy. Of course."

"Is it Muggle or not?" Hermione asked, gathering her things.

"Are you kidding?" Draco asked before he could stop himself. "I'm okay with Muggle-borns, but Muggles are-" he caught himself when she looked at him. "I'm still working on Muggles. Small groups at a time, you know, I don't think I'm ready to face the entire Muggle world just yet."

"Nonsense. What would they do to you? Eat you?"

Draco frowned. Hermione didn't seem to be in a good mood. She was probably tired. "Of course not. But I'm still trying to learn the appliances."

"What better way than to see them in person?"

"Maybe some other time. I already made reservations. Let's go."

Hermione huffed, but took Draco's arm anyway as he Apparated them to the restaurant. "Next time we have a meeting," she said as they took their seats, "it will be at a Muggle restaurant."

"You said I could pick the place, and I did," Draco glared at her over his menu. "What's your problem? This is a perfectly good restaurant."

"My _problem_ is your attitude against Muggles."

"_My_ problem is your attitude against Purebloods like me."

"_Your_ problem is you won't give Muggles a chance."

"_Your_ problem is you won't give other people a chance to unlearn the prejudices they've known all their life."

"What better way than to immerse yourself in their world?"

"It's like jumping into a lake of cold water," Draco said defensively. "I have to prepare myself mentally for the shock."

"You won't get warm if you don't jump in and swim around," Hermione said practically. "It'll always be a lake of cold water until you warm yourself up."

Draco sighed, snapped his menu shut, and signaled at a waiter. "Let's just forget about it, all right? Next time, you choose the place." He placed his order, and Hermione followed suit.

"There's a good Muggle place near my old house-"

"Drop it, all right? I said you can choose the place," he growled, annoyed. "And if some Muggle overhears us planning a magical party, it'll be your fault."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're so paranoid, Malfoy. Do you think all Muggles listen in on other people's conversations? They don't even know we exist, they'd barely listen to us talk."

"Why do you enjoy visiting a world where we have to hide, anyway?"

"I don't _hide_, I just don't do magic. There's a difference. When you're in the Muggle world, you don't _need_ magic. You would know, if you'd go."

"They hated us before, Granger. They'll hate us still."

Hermione shook her head. "Times have changed, Malfoy. I'm not saying we should break the Statute of Secrecy, but I don't think we should be as scared as we used to be. Times have changed, but you and your beliefs- you haven't."

"I'm not willing to risk anything on Muggles, Granger," Draco said flatly. "Now listen, I said you can pick the place for the next meeting, and be it a Muggle restaurant, I'll go. I may not be happy, but I'll go, and I promise not to make a big deal out of it if you promise not to make a big deal out of _this_. If I had known you wanted a Muggle restaurant tonight I would have found one, but I didn't know. So can we just leave this bloody conversation and talk about the party?"

Hermione stared hard at him before looking away and nodding. "Right. Sorry," she mumbled.

"I just picked a wizarding place because it's more convenient, as I don't have a credit card or any Muggle money."

"I suggested the dinner, so I ought to pay."

"You can pay next time, at the Muggle place," Draco lied. "But tonight is my treat."

"I- well, thank you." Flustered, she sat back and glanced around the restaurant. "This is a nice place."

"The food's delicious."

"I hope so, I'm starving."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended upon their table. Finally, Draco cleared his throat. "We can even go to McDoogal's, if you want."

Hermione looked at him, confused. "Sorry, where?"

"McDoogal's," he repeated carefully. "That Muggle restaurant that sells hamburgers and has a clown as its mascot?" He stared at her as she started to laugh.

"Sorry," Hermione gasped, her face red from laughing. "I think you mean McDonald's."

Draco felt his own face turn pink. "Right, there. McDoogal's, McDonald's, it's close enough," he snapped defensively, waiting for her to stop giggling.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said finally, clearing her throat and smoothing her hair, the corners of her mouth still twitching. "Come on Malfoy, surely you can laugh at yourself."

He huffed and crossed his arms. "I would if it was funny."

"I used to call the Leaky Cauldron the 'Leaking Cauldron'," Hermione confided, and was rewarded by seeing a small smile on Draco's face.

"You didn't."

"I did! Back in first year. Even until second year it was hard for me to say 'Leaky', because in my mind I kept calling it 'Leaking'. And if you _ever_ tell anyone that story," she said sternly, as he laughed openly, "I'll make sure everyone knows about McDoogal's."

He smirked. "So we're even, then? You know, if we ever put up a restaurant, we could call it McDoogal's Leaking Cauldron."

Hermione laughed. "That would be a sight."

Draco grinned at her, soaking in her happiness. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, and he suddenly wondered what she would do if he kissed her. She was in such a good mood, after all…

Hermione cleared her throat, and Draco noticed that she looked faintly embarrassed. She played with her napkin before taking a deep breath. "So, how was your day?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Aren't we going to discuss the party?"

"In a moment, when the food comes," Hermione set her chin stubbornly. "You and I rarely get to talk without Harry and Ron around, so I'm asking you. How was your day?"

"It was… good, I guess," he replied, nervously. He had no idea what to say. He didn't want to bore her, after all. "Nothing spectacular. Yours?"

"Not bad." She sighed. "But not spectacular either."

Silence.

"So…" Hermione tried to think of a topic. "What's your favorite Quidditch team?"

"The Arrows. Yours?"

"Er… I don't actually follow Quidditch that much, so I don't have a favorite team. I suppose it's the Cannons, since that's the team I know the most about." She fidgeted. "I don't actually know much about the Arrows."

"They're not the top team at the moment," Draco acknowledged, "but they used to be, and I think they'll get better these next few seasons."

Hermione nodded, and more silence ensued.

"What do you think of the new law the minister's trying to pass?"

"About Screening Charms?"

"Yeah."

Hermione smiled. "Now you're talking."

"Granger, we're on dessert. We really ought to plan the party."

"Yes, right." Hermione licked some ice cream off her spoon and drew out a piece of parchment and a ball pen from her bag.

Draco watched as she readied herself, feeling more at ease with her than he had in a long time. They hadn't spoken about their lives, their everyday things, but Draco felt he knew her so much better than he did before. They had compared political opinions, discussed the state of the Wizarding World and had even debated, more calmly, about house elf rights. Hermione was practically glowing, Draco thought, watching her. He realized that not many people took her cause seriously, and was pleased to see that, though he disagreed with her, he had made her happy.

"So, a children's party, you said?"

"Yes. You know him better than I do- you know he's never had a chance to do normal childhood things. I bet those relatives of his never gave him a party when he was young."

"That's true," Hermione said slowly. "His birthdays were usually ignored, except for when they'd give him gifts like coat hangers."

"Which any young boy would be delighted to have, I'm sure," Draco said. "It doesn't have to be too childish, but something the Weasley kids would enjoy."

"It's actually not a bad idea," Hermione decided, beginning to scribbling furiously. "We could have a cake in the shape of a broom, or a snitch. Or even a purple dinosaur." She chuckled to herself.

Draco raised an eyebrow, not quite following her train of thought.

"We could have balloons, and a few games, perhaps," Hermione continued excitedly. "Maybe someone who knows how to make shapes out of balloons. And, oh! A magician!"

At this point, Draco had to cut in. "Granger, a magician? Everyone at the party will be a witch or wizard."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, blushing and crossing it off her list. "I was trying to think of things at Muggle parties. What happens at parties in magical families?"

"I can't really say, except for the parties in my own social circle," Draco replied, making a gesture to indicate he meant no offense to those poorer than himself. "The theme changed every year- wizards always try to outdo each other. For one of my parties, my parents practically hired an entire carnival- there was a Ferris Wheel, a merry-go-round, and a number of other rides and games. Pansy had one where the Parkinson Mansion was spelled to make it seem like we were all at a tropical paradise, which is stunning considering that her birthday is in December." He grinned at Hermione apologetically. "Those parties are too extravagant and expensive for Potter's taste."

"It does sound rather…much," Hermione agreed.

"We could ask other magical families."

"Hmm. Well, there is Ron. Assuming he can be trusted not to tell Harry."

Draco shook his head. "No, not Weasley. He's not lifting a finger to help plan this event, and it was even his idea. If he doesn't want to help, he doesn't get to know the theme."

Hermione grinned. "Good point. It _is_ rather annoying, actually. Honestly, Ron can be clever sometimes, but most of the time he's just too lazy to do anything. I'm glad someone else has finally noticed."

It was music to Draco's ears to hear Hermione rant about Ron. He'd place the memory in his Pensieve when he got home, he decided. "We could ask Mrs. Weasley, I suppose. She can be trusted not to tell Harry, she can help us."

"Good idea." Hermione made a few more notes on her parchment. "I wonder how Harry feels about clowns. Perhaps a bouncy castle would be fun; I wonder where we can rent that?"

"Is the bouncy castle the huge inflated balloon sort of thing that kids jump on?"

"Yes, that's it," Hermione said, laughing at his description.

"I suppose then it would depend on where the party will be. If it's a Muggle venue, we can rent one easily, but if it's Unplottable, then we'll have a harder time, and we can't bring Muggles in."

"Right." Hermione put a spoonful of now-melted ice cream into her mouth. "Well, it can't be at Harry's place, even if Ginny could get him out of town while we prepare it. Their garden is too small."

"The Burrow," Draco suggested again.

"We've discussed it before. I don't want Mrs. Weasley clearing up after the party." She ate more ice cream.

"You know," Draco began, watching her eat, "if it's going to be an all-magical crowd, we can use my place. The grounds are spacious, the house is big enough, and the elves will be happy to have loads of guests. They haven't had to cook for parties much these days. We can even use the ballroom for dancing, because although it's a children's party, we have to have some level of maturity."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "Won't your mother mind?"

"I'll send her off to Italy for that week," Draco said positively. "She's been talking about going, and this is the perfect excuse."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Instead she asked, "Surely I get to see the venue before the party?"

Draco, who was taking a sip of water, almost choked. Hermione was practically inviting herself to his house- it was more than he had expected. But of course she would want to see the place, he should have anticipated it. "Of course," Draco said eagerly, "when are you free? Tomorrow? The day after?"

"How does Saturday sound? That way I can work on a few more plans before then."

"Great."

3 weeks, 2 days to go…

"So where exactly are we?" Hermione asked, letting go of Draco's arm as she surveyed the countryside.

"Wiltshire, but that's all I can tell you. The Manor is Unplottable," Draco explained.

"Right," Hermione said, her eyebrows raised. "I don't see a manor, or even a house. I only see fields and a clump of trees."

"There's a charm on the grounds. They look like farm land now, but later, you'll see. There are four rocks that mark the boundary."

"Don't the neighboring farmers wonder who's land it is?"

"Of course they do, occasionally, but because of the spell, Farmer A will think it belongs to Farmer B, who thinks it belongs to Farmer C, who thinks it belongs to Farmer D, and so on."

"What charm is that? I don't think I've heard of it," Hermione said curiously.

"It's very ancient. I've forgotten the name now. But even before this current house was built, the spell has been on the grounds."

"I still don't see a house."

"That's because now you're not really expecting to see one." Draco smirked. "Try it. Close your eyes and when you open them, believe that you'll see a house."

Hermione did as instructed, and gasped when she opened her eyes to see a charming mansion, old yet in good condition. The gardens they were standing in looked beautiful. "So if a Muggle were to expect to see this house, he would?"

"A Muggle child might," Draco said, starting to walk toward the house. "An adult usually is so disillusioned. See, you have to really believe it. You did, and most magical folk tend to, because they know spells can hide things. An adult Muggle would have a harder time believing it than a child."

"Do some children ever get into the property?"

"That's why there are so many trees. They turn into-" Draco stopped speaking abruptly, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "I mean, they can help hide the fact that the house really exists. Look, we're here. Let me give you a tour."

They started from the ballroom, entering directly from the garden. Hermione was talking rapidly about where she wanted to place everything, and Draco was quickly getting bored. Planning the party wasn't the real reason he was happy she was coming over. What he wanted to do was take her someplace private, just the two of them, for a good few hours. No, not really- he knew he would just get nervous and make them both uncomfortable.

"Hermione," Draco said sharply, when her incessant babbling was becoming too much for him.

"What?" she asked, turning from where she was envisioning the bouncy castle.

"Shut up for two seconds and tell me what you'd like to drink. You've been talking for a good hour! We have all afternoon, you know."

"Oh, right," Hermione said sheepishly. "A glass of water would be fine."

Draco crossed over to the end of the room and rang a little bell. A house elf appeared in front of him, and, after a quick glance at Hermione, Draco proceeded to treat it very politely. "Thank you for coming so promptly."

The elf cowered, perhaps believing it had arrived just in time for clothes, but Draco didn't notice, as he chanced another glance at Hermione to see her reaction. She was watching him curiously. "If it's not too much effort, perhaps you could bring us each a glass of water. Please."

"Yes, Master."

"And you may get one for yourself too, if you wish, of course." Another glance at Hermione, who was smiling slightly by now. Feeling galvanized, Draco added, "and you may call me- " _Draco_, he almost finished, but changed his mind at the last minute. Good thing, too. "I mean, you may get a cup of tea for yourself, if you'd prefer it to water."

"Yes, Master."

"And, er, you can take the afternoon off, until dinner. We won't be need- um, looking for you. Tell the other elves too. Thank you."

"Yes, Master."

Looking slightly put out, the elf disappeared, and Hermione burst out laughing. Draco stared at her, shocked. "What?"

"What was that?" Hermione asked, still laughing. "Are you trying to impress me?"

"A good host always makes his guests comfortable," Draco said, his voice cold and his cheeks flaming. "I was merely hoping to avoid an argument between us, but apparently it didn't work."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, although she was smiling. "It was just so funny, you obviously didn't mean a word."

Draco was hurt. It was true, he wanted to impress her, but he thought his performance had been brilliant rather than laughable. The elf arrived with their drinks, and Draco ignored it.

"See? Your actions earlier weren't heartfelt," Hermione said, accepting her drink and thanking the elf.

"Why bother acting, when we're already in the middle of a fight?" Draco asked irritably.

Both of them seethed and drank their water in silence. Then Hermione said timidly, "I'm sorry for laughing. I just never thought I'd see the day you'd offer a house elf tea. Would you please give me a tour of your house now?"

"Fine," Draco snapped. He set his glass down on a window sill, knowing the elves would take care of it later. "Let's go."

He led her around the house, pointing out various rooms and hallways. "My parent's suites are down there, so I'm not going to take you. My rooms are over here. There are forty guest rooms."

"Only forty?" Hermione asked lightly, but it didn't improve Draco's mood. He ignored her question.

"Over here is the library, and down that hall is the room that my father used to use as his office. I use it now." He led her up a flight of stairs.

"How will the guests get here? We'd have to tell them all about the spell on the house?"

Draco laughed harshly, then immediately regretted it. He risked a small glance at Hermione, who wasn't looking at him. "They'll floo," he told her more gently. "I just wanted you to experience it. I thought you might enjoy it."

Hermione looked at him then, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in her eyes. "I did enjoy it. Thank you."

Draco turned away quickly, unsure of what to do. He cleared his throat. "Up here is where I used to play. The play room is over there, and the school room, where I'd have my lessons before Hogwarts, is beside it." Draco opened the play room and peered inside.

"The toys are all still there," Hermione observed. "And it's clean."

"The, er, elves keep it clean. I haven't been up here in ages." He entered the room, looking at the objects in the room with a sort of awe.

"Beautiful toys."

"Only the best," Draco replied absently, stroking a wooden rocking horse. "This used to be my favorite. But I also liked this one," he said, indicating a toy broom.

Hermione watched quietly as Draco went around the room, picking up certain toys, and then setting them back down almost reverently.

"I bet you enjoyed your childhood here."

"Most of the time," Draco replied, examining a model of a troll. "I didn't really enjoy studying, though, not when I could be here instead."

"It seems so sad," Hermione commented, "that all these toys are here, and they're not being used."

"Some are antiques. Others were really mine."

"Wouldn't it be nice to donate them to charity?"

"I don't think I could part with them."

"But you almost forgot about them until now!"

"I'd much rather get married, have children, and watch them play and make their own memories with these," Draco said, turning to face Hermione. He had gotten rather carried away, reminiscing on his childhood adventures with his toys. He looked at her now, wondering how she'd react to what he had just said- would she read into it or take it at face value?

Hermione smiled. "That sounds nice. I hope I get to see that too, one day."

Now Draco wondered how much he ought to read into that. Shaking his head, he set the troll down. "Let's go." He strode to the door and pushed it. It wouldn't budge. "Shit."

Hermione was behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot," Draco replied, slapping his forehead with his palm, "that this door automatically locks from the outside."

"Why?" Hermione asked, and he could tell she was annoyed.

"To keep me inside, of course. Hardly anything is worse than having a young boy wander around a house full of rooms and staircases. I could have gotten seriously hurt."

"Use your wand!"

"It can't be opened by human magic," Draco explained, moving back to the middle of the room and sitting on the floor. "I had a tendency to do nonverbal magic when I'd get angry so it's spelled against that."

"Then the elves! Call one! I can't be stuck here with you forever!" Hermione seemed on the verge of panic, and Draco didn't know whether or not to be offended.

"I sent the elves off until dinner, remember?" Draco growled. "When the elf calls us for dinner, he can unlock it."

"How will he find us?"

"His magic. He'll know."

They were both silent for a while, and Hermione eventually sat down beside him. "Draco?" she asked after a while. He grunted in response, and she trained her gaze on him. "What's your elf's name?"

Draco froze. "Er, why do you ask?" He was thinking rapidly, or at least trying to. He seemed to have stumbled on a mental block.

"Because you always refer to him as 'the elf' instead of using his name."

"It's, um-"

"Bobby?" Hermione supplied.

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed, his memory returning to him. "How did you know?"

"I asked him."

"Oh." Glancing around, Draco looked for a way to change the topic. He spotted a stack of papers. "I know you left your things back in the ballroom, but we can make plans on these," he said, grabbing some blank parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink.

"Good idea." Hermione spread the parchment out on the floor and dipped the nib of the quill into the ink. She and Draco then proceeded to map out the layout of the party. They were so close that their shoulders were touching, and Draco was having a hard time concentrating. He entertained thoughts of turning to her and declaring his feelings, but at that moment his stomach gave an embarrassingly loud rumble.

He could swear he heard Hermione giggle slightly, but thankfully she didn't tease him. Instead she leaned back and surveyed their work. "I think we deserve a break," she said, conjuring a plate of sandwiches, which she offered to Draco. He accepted one gratefully, and she took one for herself.

"Surely you got too old to be locked in here?"

"I stopped coming here entirely when I was about seven. I used the school room more, the library and the small Quidditch pitch." Draco took a bite of his sandwich. They lapsed into silence.

Once all the sandwiches were eaten (mostly by Draco), Hermione continued making plans for the party. Eventually even she lay down her quill and said, "that's all we can do for now."

"And an hour and a half to go until dinner," Draco responded.

Hermione sighed. "Any ideas?"

Draco smirked. "Just one."

"The hero comes in on the back of a dragon, flying over the enemy, and he scorches half of them to death." Draco knocked down half of the toys in front of him.

"The heroine enters a burning school building, which the dragon _stupidly and accidentally_ torched, and saves all the children's lives." Hermione emptied out the contents of a drawer.

"The hero flies over the heads of the remaining enemy, chopping them off one by one," Draco continued, making chopping sounds and pushing the remaining half of the toys down.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Do you always have to make it so bloody?" She picked up the toy she had been playing with. "The heroine rushes back into the building to save the teachers who are trapped, and to free the elves!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "There is only one enemy left, the Boss. The hero jumps down from the dragon's back and runs after the enemy, drawing out his wand and preparing for a duel."

"The elves rejoice!" Hermione made cheering sounds and used a spell to make the stuffed toys around her bob up and down.

"The hero Stuns the Boss and impales him on the Sword of Slytherin."

"Slytherin didn't have a sword. Only Gryffindor did."

"This is fiction," Draco snapped. "The hero is triumphant!"

"And so is the heroine," Hermione added.

Draco brought the hero to stand in front of the heroine. "And now-"

"Let me guess, this is the part where they kiss and live happily ever after?"

Draco sighed. "It does sound horribly clichéd."

"And it doesn't even happen like that in real life. I mean, if I had a kiss for every battle I'd been in…" Hermione trailed off. "In fact," she continued, "I think love is rarely found in war. I mean, sure, families may get closer together, but most people are too focused on fighting to find new love."

"But Harry and Ginny-"

"Are the exception, and they already loved each other before that. Tonks and Remus, too, are an exception. But no one else got together."

"You sound so disappointed. Was there anyone in particular you wanted to kiss?" Draco asked curiously.

Hermione gave a small laugh. "If I told you who, you'd laugh."

Draco swallowed hard. There was someone? "No, I wouldn't. Try me."

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't."

At that moment, a house elf popped in. "Master and Miss, it is time for dinner."

"Thank you, Bobby," Hermione said, standing up. "We'll just clear up and be right down."

Both Draco and Bobby looked at her in shock. "Bobby will do it," Draco said.

"But we made the mess," Hermione countered, already sending all of the toys she had been playing with back into the drawer with a Banishing Charm.

"Bobby will do it, Miss," the elf said.

Hermione sighed. "If you insist."

Draco led the way to the door, and motioned for Bobby to open it, which he did.

"Thank you," Hermione said just before she left.

Two weeks to go…

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione muttered as she slid into the seat opposite Draco. "I had a meeting with the Head Hag of- oh, never mind." She pulled a stack of parchment out from her bag. "Anyway, I've sent all the invitations out already."

"Excellent."

"I invited around fifty people in total, including the families of Harry's close friends. So far only a few have confirmed, but there are still two weeks left. I also contacted the bouncy castle people, and they'll set it up in my backyard. I only reserved it for five hours, but I think that should give us enough leeway."

Draco watched Hermione talk, drinking in the sight of her. The light from outside the window they were sitting beside seemed to hit her just perfectly. He hadn't seen her in over a week, and he had missed her. She had come straight from the office, her hair was a mess, and she seemed stressed out.

"We could go somewhere else," he found himself saying.

"What?"

"Maybe you'd like to go somewhere else," Draco repeated. "Where you can relax."

"I'm fine."

"I just thought you looked a bit frazzled."

"Trust me, I've been worse. But I thought I already told you what to order for me?"

"And I did order it, but we could take the food home and eat at my place, if you'd like."

"Or we could go to mine," she said, considering the idea.

Draco rather liked the sound of that. He nodded and called the waiter.

Less than ten minutes later, they had Apparated to Hermione's house.

"I'll just get freshened up." Hermione disappeared up the stairs, and Draco found himself alone in her living room. He glanced at the pictures on the walls and noticed that none of them moved. He figured that she had Muggle friends who visit. Harry and Ron were often in the pictures, as were a couple that he recognized as her parents. He was surprised to find himself in one of the pictures.

The picture was taken in the garden at the Burrow, and Draco vaguely remembered Arthur Weasley taking it with his new Muggle camera. Draco and Hermione had been sitting beside each other at the garden table, and Arthur had come up and snapped the shot. Draco had asked for a copy of the picture, but he had never gotten one. It had been so long ago that he had forgotten about it.

Footsteps alerted him to Hermione's return. He turned around to face her. "Hermione, how did you get this picture?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh, Mr. Weasley gave it. Don't you remember; he took it on Ron's birthday?"

"I asked him for a copy but he never gave it to me," Draco said, a bit disappointed.

"Maybe he forgot."

Draco sighed. "Never mind. I'll ask him again. Let's have dinner."

They discussed what they had accomplished so far. Draco had arranged for Lavender Brown and her band to provide the music for the dancing, and he had gotten some records of kiddie songs for the children's side. The invitations had been sent out, the bouncy castle and the tables and chairs rented.

After dinner they sat down on the couch to continue their discussion. All that was left for Draco to do was plan the menu. He wrote down possible dishes, starting with his favorites. Hermione picked up a book and began reading. About half an hour later, he felt her head on his shoulder. He was startled, but tried not to move. She was asleep.

Draco's heart was pounding, and he was surprised that it didn't wake her up. His palms were sweating, and he couldn't continue writing his list. He did not know what to think. Hermione obviously was comfortable around him now, which was a big step forward, but was she leaning on him because she was comfortable as a friend, or was she giving him some sort of sign?

He was beginning to feel very uneasy. He didn't want her to think he wanted her just as a friend, but he didn't think he'd have the courage to let her know. Sighing, he began writing again, and the movement of his shoulder woke Hermione up.

"Goodness, was I out long?" she asked, blushing.

"About five minutes," Draco replied, not looking at her. "There," he handed his list to her, "I've finished."

Hermione rubbed her eyes sleepily and scanned through the list. "It sounds delicious."

"You know," Draco said, standing, "I should go. You should sleep properly."

"When will we meet again?" Hermione asked, also standing.

"When are you free?"

"Not until next week, I'm afraid."

"Then next week it is." Draco swallowed hard- he had the chance to tell her, but his mind was drawing a blank. "Um, Hermione, I- goodnight." He took the list back and prepared to Apparate.

"Thanks for the dinner."

"No problem. I had fun too. We accomplished a lot." He hesitated, on the verge of speaking again, then nodded and disappeared.

One week to go…

It was the day that Draco was scheduled to meet Hermione, and he still hadn't figured her out. In a fit of desperation, he had turned to Ron and Harry.

"What were you doing in Hermione's flat, anyway?" Harry asked, looking curious, a small smile on his lips.

"What's wrong with that? We're _friends_," Draco said defensively, suddenly remembering Harry didn't know about the party, and furiously relieved that he hadn't given anything away.

"So late at night?"

"It wasn't late, she was just tired, that's why she fell asleep- why are you _smiling_, Potter?" he snarled angrily, itching to wipe the annoying grin off Harry's face.

"I think you like her, Malfoy."

Draco breathed heavily, trying to control himself from killing the Boy Who Lived. "If I didn't like her, Potter," he said with forced calm, as though talking to a five- no, scratch that- _three_ year old, "I wouldn't be having this bloody, idiotic conversation with you, would I?" There, he'd said it. He'd admitted it. It was painfully clear now.

Harry shrugged, holding his hands in a placating manner. "Hey, you started this idiotic conversation."

Frustrated, Draco turned to Ron. "Weasley!"

Hiding a grin, Ron turned to his best friend. "Let's just say, Harry, that for reasons unknown, Malfoy was in Hermione's flat. With her. At night." He paused significantly. "She fell asleep on him." Another significant pause. "Merlin, Malfoy, were you that boring?"

Draco gritted his teeth, exasperated with Ron's interrogation technique.

"And you're asking what it means. Correct?"

"Yes!" the blond ground out, at the verge of hitting him.

"Well, I'd say it's fairly obvious. I'd say she was tired and needed a shoulder to sleep on."

Draco gave him a look. Harry spoke up. "I think she was flirting."

Draco gave _him_ a look, too. "I'm serious, Potter."

"So am I, Malfoy. I think she likes you back."

Draco's spirits lifted. "Really? You think she does?"

Ron shook his head. "If she was flirting, she would have said something. Or done something more flirty. Something more obvious. What's the point of flirting if you're not obvious? If you can't get your point across?"

"She's probably just testing the waters, so to speak," Harry waved his hand airily. "What did you do afterwards, Malfoy? Flirt back? Wink?"

"Nothing," Draco whispered hoarsely, the implications of what he didn't do suddenly hitting him. "I just Disapparated."

"Oh." Both Gryffindors looked uncomfortable and sympathetic.

"Oh, shit," Draco swore, cursing females and their bloody complicated ways. "You know, a guy would have just _told_ her, instead of falling asleep on her shoulder."

"Malfoy, we're not even sure if she likes you," Ron said. "Maybe she really just fell asleep on you by accident."

"I don't know what to think." Draco shook his head, more confused than he had been before. "I don't know what to _do_."

"Let's ask a girl," Ron suggested. "Ginny?"

Harry nodded, and strode to Ron's fireplace. "Ginny Weasley," he said, throwing some powder into the flames, and sticking his face in. "Hi, Gin."

Draco drew Ron aside. "He still doesn't know about the party?"

"Not at all. I was afraid you'd give it away!"

"Sorry about that," Draco muttered. "Granger's just really irritating."

Ron raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

Harry returned to them. "She said it could have been a conscious attempt because she likes you," he reported to Draco, "but she also says Hermione's head could have just accidentally fallen on you while she was asleep."

"What? How could she not know?" Draco was enraged.

"I know, that's what I told her. And she said it was most likely the former, but quite possibly the latter."

"I think you just have to talk to Hermione, mate. Why haven't you asked her out, anyway, if you like her?"

Draco looked appalled. "Weasley, listen to yourself! That would be like trying to pet a hippogriff before bowing to it."

"Are you saying Hermione's a hippogriff?"

"No, I'm saying Hermione's _like_ a hippogriff. I have to establish a relatively smooth relationship with her first-"

"Scared of her, are you?"

"No… not really. Maybe a bit."

"Wise man," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let your fear keep you from saying anything stupid."

Draco snorted as he turned to Floo. "That must be why you Gryffindors are so stupid- no fear, all courage."

"Don't worry mate, if it makes you feel any better- Krum had to ask twice to get her to go with him to the Yule Ball."

Draco shot Ron a grateful look before disappearing into the fireplace. Harry chuckled.

"You didn't tell him that that was because Hermione couldn't hear Krum?"

"Of course not. Did you see the look on his face, poor guy? Didn't want to break his heart."

Later that day, Draco and Hermione sat at her dining table, the plans for the part spread out in front of them. Hermione was in a lighthearted mood; Draco was not. Still confused, he kept bringing the discussion back to the plans.

"Has everyone confirmed?"

"Two families aren't sure if they'll make it- that's about eight people. But that's fine. How's the food?"

"Well, you said you didn't want my house elves getting overworked, right? So I asked the elves at Hogwarts if they could help with the food, while my elves take care of the decorations. They were ecstatic. It's summer, so they're not doing anything at the school except cleaning and preparing small meals."

"How much are we paying them?"

"I offered to pay them, but they would only accept payment for the ingredients, not for labor."

"What!" Hermione shook her head. "No, you have to be firm. They can't keep on doing something for nothing."

"They're doing it for Potter, Hermione. They adore Potter. It's their birthday gift to him, that's what they told me." He paused, but she didn't argue. "Anyway, I left some Galleons with Dobby, because he told me he was keeping a fund for the house elves, in case there's ever an emergency."

Hermione grinned. "That's great! Finally, the elves are being more open to their rights. How much do they have?"

"Mostly what you've given them. The rest is what I've given them."

"Darn, I was hoping the rest of the school would have picked up on it by now. Oh well. When will they cook the food?"

"They'll cook it in the morning, and bring it to the Manor by lunch. They offered to help serve the food and clean up afterwards. I told them I'd ask you."

"That sounds fine."

They lapsed into silence for a while, until Draco decided to break it. "Hermione?"

"What?" She turned to look at him, and Draco stared back at her, trying not to lose his nerve.

"Planning this party has been fun, hasn't it?"

Hermione smiled. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

"Hopefully, even after the party-"

"Yes?"

Draco swallowed. "I mean, hopefully the party all goes well, without a hitch."

"I think it'll be fine." She looked down and bit her lip slightly. "Draco, I… I've learned a lot from this."

"So have I," he said quickly, relieved that she was taking over the conversation.

"I hope Harry appreciates it," she finished.

Draco stood up. He had had enough for one night. He was getting tired of dancing around her, and she wasn't helping matters any. "I'd better go."

"Oh, all right. I'll be busy this week, but owl me if you need me."

"I'll do better than that, I'll visit you."

"Perfect."

"Excellent."

"Don't forget."

"I won't."

"Draco…" Hermione swallowed hard and stepped forward. "Good- good night."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Hermione." And he Disapparated.

The day of the party…

Hermione smiled at the man who had delivered and set up the bouncy castle. "Thank you so much."

"We don't normally leave it unattended, you know."

"Good thing the manager is a friend of mine then, isn't it? And I promise I'll take care of it." She waved the man goodbye and whipped out her wand. "_Portus_," she muttered. Gathering the rest of her things, she pressed a hand to the side of the bouncy castle, and arrived on the Malfoy grounds.

The decorations were up and the elves were happily working. Draco was in the middle of it all, sampling the menu. He waved at her, and she walked over.

"You'll get fat," she told him disapprovingly.

"Would it bother you if I did?" he asked.

"No, I'm actually thinking of all the clothes you'll outgrow that you can donate to charity."

Draco smirked at her, then glanced at his watch. "You're five minutes late, by the way."

"I know. The stupid delivery man wouldn't leave."

"The guests will arrive in half an hour."

"I know." She glanced around. "But the decorations look pretty much all set, anyway."

"The elves worked overtime this morning, and some Weasleys came around to help," Draco said. "I never imagined there'd be Weasleys at the Manor."

Hermione grinned, spotting the various members of the red-haired family. "I'll just go check everything, all right? Half an hour until the guests arrive, and exactly one hour until Harry gets here."

"I know, I know. Now shoo, I have food to sample." He turned back to the buffet table, watching her walk away out of the corner of his eye.

She looked rather nice today, he decided. Hermione had fixed her hair somewhat, and although he enjoyed her wild curls, it actually was a refreshing change to see it slightly tidier. She was wearing casual Muggle clothes, the kind that looked comfortable but not too grungy. A baby t-shirt, he reminded himself, that's what it's called. A baby t-shirt and jeans. Self-consciously, he looked down at his own outfit and wondered if his clothes were just a tad too plain. He was wearing a Muggle t-shirt Ron had bought for him, and a pair of trousers called denims. Perhaps a polo shirt would have been more suitable?

"Granger!" he called out impulsively. She turned around to look at him. "Are my clothes all right? Or should I change into something better?"

He held his breath as she critically looked him up and down. "Muggle clothes suit you, Malfoy," she pronounced, flashing him a thumbs-up. "Don't change. In fact, wear that more often!"

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks." Draco was surprised, but decided to take her word for it. Standing up a little bit straighter, and feeling a lot more confident, he looked around his grounds, seeking out any problems.

Hermione went straight to the entrance hall, where Harry would be arriving by Portkey. In half an hour the guests would be assembling in the hall, leaving a space in the middle for Harry, so they could shout "Happy Birthday!" as soon as he appeared. She checked and double-checked Weasleys Wildfire Whizbangs that were supposed to go off as soon as Harry arrived. She walked to the ballroom and stood at the doorway, trying to visualize it filled with people.

Lavender Brown was on a small dais, her band setting up their instruments. She waved at Hermione.

"Twenty minutes," Hermione called cheerfully to her former dorm-mate, "until the guests arrive. Harry will arrive at eleven."

"Got it."

Hermione continued wandering around, absently straightening out tablecloths, checking the toys for the children's amusement. In her mind she was mentally running through a checklist, making sure that they hadn't overlooked anything crucial. With ten minutes to spare, she had finished her mental list, and all that was left to do was pray that nothing went wrong.

At the time the guests were due to arrive, Draco and Hermione were waiting by the fireplace, both trying to act as if they weren't nervous. Both were sweating, though, and Draco couldn't tell if it was because of the heat or their nerves.

The first few guests arrived, and Draco plastered a smile onto his face. He was sure it looked forced, and he didn't care- everyone knew the less-than-friendly history he and Harry had.

Hermione seemed to be genuinely happy to see each guest, and he wondered whether she really felt that way, or if she was acting too. Some of them she introduced to Draco, others he already knew.

Before they knew it, it was time for Harry to arrive. Everyone gathered in the entrance hall, and Hermione nervously glanced at her watch, counting down the seconds.

At precisely eleven o'clock, Harry appeared with a pop, holding a partly unwrapped gift.

"Happy birthday!" the crowd yelled, and Harry's jaw dropped with shock. The fireworks went off, and everyone who hadn't been expecting it (namely, everyone except Draco and Hermione) gasped and applauded.

Harry grinned, and his friends grinned back. "Thanks, guys. This is amazing!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly, but moved forward anyway to hug Harry and place a party hat on his head. "Happy birthday," she whispered, squeezing him tightly.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

Draco came up and shook Harry's hand, and afterwards, everyone wanted to greet Harry too. It was only after the last guest had done so that the party really started.

The children made a beeline for the bouncy castle, while the adults danced, watched the children, or hung around to talk to one another. Harry eagerly tried everything- he and Ron spent half an hour on the bouncy castle, laughing their heads off, and then Harry joined in some of the children's games. Lunch was served, some new attraction was brought in to entertain the children, and Draco and Hermione felt that they could just relax and enjoy the party. Or at least appear to do so, since although they both were enjoying the party, neither of them could relax.

Draco, with a bit of pushing from Ron, decided to just muster his courage and ask Hermione to join him on the dance floor. He walked over to where she was talking, rather crossly, to Harry.

"-thought of some other way? Well, at least you're enjoying it."

"Is there a problem?" Draco asked as he approached.

"No," Harry answered, and Hermione kept quiet.

"Good." Draco paused for a minute, then turned to her. "Apparently Lavender's band is a big hit. Would you like to dance?"

That was all it took for Hermione's sour expression to change, and she smiled at Draco. "Why not?" She took his hand and quickly led him away from Harry, into the ballroom.

Once there, they hesitated, because they didn't quite know what to do. Draco glanced around, wondering what the appropriate way was to hold Hermione, since he didn't know whether to classify the song that was currently playing as a slow song or a fast one. Luck was on his side, because the song ended and a new, slower one was started. Draco stepped closer to Hermione, and was pleasantly surprised when she stepped closer to _him_ and pulled him into her arms. He thought he heard her giggle into his chest, but he wasn't so sure.

"You're nervous," Hermione whispered as they moved in time to the music, but he heard it.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he replied. It wasn't true, and he knew it, but he couldn't very well tell her that she made him nervous. On the other hand, it would be interesting to see how she'd react if he did tell her. Before he had the chance to, however, someone small barreled straight into them, causing them to stagger.

Both of them glanced down to see a small boy sitting on the floor. Hermione let go of Draco immediately and crouched in front of the boy.

"Hi," she began, smiling gently, "are you okay?"

The boy sniffled but nodded.

"Why were you running?" Hermione asked.

"We were playing 'It'," the boy replied, looking afraid that Hermione would get mad at him. He glanced up at Draco, who was annoyed at the interruption. Strangely though, watching Hermione talk to the little boy made him forget his anger, and he too crouched in front of the child.

"I'm sure you must be really good at it, because you were going so fast," Hermione said, "but next time, could you just run outside the house? That way nothing breaks."

The boy nodded again, and looked around. Draco looked around too, trying to spot which adult this child was with.

"Do you want help finding your mummy?" he asked, helping the little boy to his feet. But no sooner had he done so than a woman rushed up, taking the boy by his hand.

"I'm so sorry he disturbed you," she said.

"No problem, it is a party, after all." Hermione smiled. "He's not hurt, but we told him not to play 'It' inside the house."

"Oh, thank you," the woman said, returning the smile before leading her son away.

Draco and Hermione stared at each other, unsure of what to do next. To resume their close position seemed a bit awkward for both of them. Eventually, Draco just shook his head, tired of the games between them. "Come on, we have to talk." He walked off the dance floor, and Hermione followed him, until they stopped at an empty room that she recognized as a drawing room.

"Any reason we couldn't talk back there?"

Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to be overheard. Do you think this party has been a success?"

"A _tremendous_ success," Hermione replied, somewhat tartly.

He looked at her in an odd way, alerted by her tone. "Two of the objectives were to surprise Harry, and to plan a great party. I think we've accomplished them."

"Actually," Hermione cut in, sounding angry, "Harry wasn't surprised at all."

"Of course he- what?"

"I could tell when he arrived. He's not that great an actor. And just before you asked me to dance, I confronted him about it. He knew all along."

"What?" Draco repeated, stunned. "How?"

"His invisibility cloak," Hermione explained wearily. "He was able to listen when we spoke to Ron, sometimes. Not that he needed a cloak," she said bitterly, "since Ron told him everything anyway. And apparently, Harry knew that we were planning a surprise party even before _we _knew, because it was his idea."

"_What_?"

"He wanted a party, but he didn't want to plan it himself. He told Ron to tell us to plan it, and to make it a surprise. Ron passed it off as his idea, and made us do all the work."

"That slimy little-"

"I know. He's been looking forward to this party because he knew we wouldn't disappoint him."

Draco clenched his fists, seething. Everything, _everything_ had been a lie. He couldn't wait until he got his hands on those two lying, scheming Gryffindors.

"You can beat them up later," Hermione said, seeming to read his mind. "But Harry says he had another reason in making us plan the party."

"What now?" Draco growled. "I can't believe they used us."

"It is horrible," Hermione agreed, sitting down on a chair.

Draco looked at her, and realized somehow that, although he was angry, she looked plain miserable. He knelt beside her and tried to be positive.

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll get them. We'll make them do something as well, like clean up, instead of making the house elves do it."

She smiled halfheartedly, and he tried again.

"We'll even make them do it without magic! The entire manor!"

This time, she chuckled. "That would be a sight."

Draco stood and looked around the room, wondering what would make Hermione feel better. Then he remembered that she had been saying something before he had interrupted her. "What was it you were going to say before? About another reason why Potter made us plan the party?"

Hermione turned pink. "He thought it would be a great opportunity for us to… to get to know each other better," she said reluctantly.

"Get to know each other? What, did they think we don't _know_ each other?"

"Well, that's not entirely _it, _exactly_."_She blushed even more. "Harry and Ron thought that something might happen between us."

Draco was silent, trying to wrap his mind around the entirety of the scheme. Harry and Ron had been trying to set them up. They were playing matchmaker! "The nerve of those idiots!"

Hermione smiled weakly. "Crazy, isn't it? That you and I could actually…"

He looked down at her, and noticed her mouth trembling slightly. Something clicked in his brain. "Hermione-"

She shook her head. "Don't, Draco."

"No, Hermione, let me say this." He crouched beside her again and she looked down at her lap. He saw the tears that slowly made their way down her cheeks. "I don't- I don't know how to say this, which is probably why I haven't said it, even though I've wanted to, for the longest time," he told her honestly. "I think I love you."

She started involuntarily, and slowly raised her gaze to meet Draco's. "Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"More than as a friend," he confirmed, gently taking her hand. "I've fancied you since I can't even remember when, and I think Potter and Weasley picked up on that. It wasn't any surprise to them when they eventually found out, at any rate. And I just never said anything because I thought you wouldn't reciprocate."

There was a question in his statement, and he waited for Hermione to reply. Her voice was still thick with tears, but she spoke. "Harry and Ron are the most frightful idiots, aren't they?" she asked, her hand tightening on his, "but I think I owe them one this time."

And while Draco tried to process what she meant, she leaned forward and kissed him shyly. "I think I love you too," she whispered.


End file.
